The Fall of Lady Macbeth
by it makes sense in context
Summary: Just somthing I had to wright for a school project. A little oneshot detailing Lady Macbeth's death seeing as we didn't see it on screen.


Lady Macbeth

I ran through the forest, fast – so fast, how could they keep up? They chased me, haunted me, these intangible spectres that terrified me more  
than any ferocious animal.

"He killed us." They called "he killed us and you watched in silence."

The terrain dissolved and a grey rocky expanse replaced the dark forest. The earth shook and a river of bright lava opened beside me. I stopped. The foul wraiths were gone but as I glanced across the river, I spotted a figure standing on the opposite bank. She stepped off the bank and appearing not to notice the boiling magma beneath her feet, walked towards me.

"He killed me too." I recognised the voice of my good friend Lady Macduff. She removed the veil covering her face exposing the gaping hole where her cheek had been.

I woke up screaming, drenched in sweat and in shock.

"My Lady." My faithful servant Anne ran into the room. She knew how these night terrors plagued my sleep.

"Anne, I'm fine." I said.

"My Lady . . . "

"I'm fine!" I snapped, then, seeing the hurt on her face, I softened,

"I'm fine Anne, trust me."

She sighed and sat on the edge of my bed "Rue," she said "What did you see?"

It was my turn to sigh now as I closed my eyes, preparing myself to say it aloud. Opening them, I spoke. "Lady Macduff is dead."

Anne gasped and brought her hands to her mouth. "How do . . ."

"I saw her." I spoke flatly, without any emotion.

"But there has been no news bought to the castle of her death, My Lady."Anne said, "They would have told us if she had died."

"Anne," I cut off her desperate rambling. "He killed her. He ordered her death."

She looked at me in shock. "But the King, His Majesty, he wouldn't?!"

"He would." I returned to the flat monotone I had used before, "He's a monster, one that I created."

Gentlewoman

I left my Lady's room in shock. After persuading her to eat, she had slipped back into the land of nightmares. He's a monster, one I created. What did that mean? How? Unless she, she told him to. But why? Then I remembered the problem at hand; my Lady's sanity, or lack thereof. What would I do? I looked out the narrow window into the courtyard below.

I sat there for some time, watching the people and thinking. I saw a figure standing so still amongst the hustle and bustle below, that I almost mistook him for a statue. He held a black bag. A small child ran up to him holding out her hand and crying. He knelt down and wrapped a bandage around it. Then I realised what my Lady needed. A Doctor.

Lady Macbeth

Sitting in my bed, I stared at my hands. Yesterday they had been the colour of milk and soft as silk. Today they were rubbed red, raw and bloodied.

"Who did this?" I asked. "Who did this?" I screamed.

"You did." Anne replied.

"How?"

"You sleep walk and talk whilst you do this. It scares me. The Doctor said you have demons in your mind." Anne said.  
Demons in my mind would explain my night terrors. "The Doctor?" I asked.  
"Yes the doctor. He came last night to see if he could explain your night terrors," she paused, "He could but . . ."  
"But what Anne?" I asked "But what?"  
"It can't be cured. Not conventionally, at least." She paused, "I'm sorry."  
I stared straight ahead at the wall. The words can't be cured ran through my mind as Anne slipped out the door.

Gentlewoman

My Lady was crazy. No dancing round the subject, the truth had been spoken. I had to end her madness. Tonight I would go to the castle chapel and pray for her. If she was not better by tomorrow evening . . .

Lady Macbeth

I was in the forest again, this time sitting on a fallen log. The setting was so peaceful, but I knew bad things were to come.

"How could you?" A familiar voice, loaded with accusation.  
"I thought we raised you better than this." said another.

I looked up into the ghostly faces of my parents. Neither bore the marks of their deaths, unlike the other ghosts.  
"Why did you do it?" my father asked. "Have Macbeth kill a king, someone he liked and respected?"  
"He hates you now," said my mother "Macbeth that is. He hates and fears and despises you."

"No." I whispered, "He doesn't. I made him great and powerful, a King."

"You poured the blood of his friends on his hands and told him to be happy with what he had acquired." My father's face morphed into that of Banquo, his voice dripping with scorn.

"But in that action you broke the jug and blood covered your own hands." My mother's face faded and changed into the ruined one of Lady Macduff.

I looked at my hands and screamed. Gloves of gore coated them. I wiped them hurriedly on my skirt to no avail. The blood simply returned. I spied a stream and ran to it, plunging my hands in to its icy depths,  
watching as the blood curled away in crimson ribbons.

Pulling my hands from the river, I screamed again. The blood was back.

"We were your friends, Rue." chimed Banquo and Lady Macduff "And yet you let him kill us. You started this, Rue and you know it."

I felt hands on my back as I toppled into the river, the current swept me away.

A waterfall swept me over a cliff and as I was about to be dashed against the rocks at the bottom of the pool below, my mind re-emerged

into consciousness.

I saw a figure standing over me but before I could scream, a leather clad hand was clamped over my mouth. I heard the rasp of a dagger being drawn from its sheath . . .

Gentlewoman

Drawing the dagger, a tear rolled down my cheek. 'Harden up Anne.' a mental voice told me. 'It's for her own good.' I took a deep breath.

"Forgive me Rue." I whispered, as the dagger descended towards my Lady's porcelain neck. . .


End file.
